


The Nothings

by VinHampton



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Baby, Depression, Fertility Issues, Loss of Child, Pregnancy, Vinlock - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-12 01:22:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2090436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VinHampton/pseuds/VinHampton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vivienne longs to be a mother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Nothings

They were meant to have removed the furniture, but things come up all the time and these little chores take the back burner. Her work, and his work. It was understandable that the cot with its dark blue bedding was still pushed up against the wall, under the painting of Pierrot, shedding a single tear into his rose. It was acceptable that the wind up ballerina and the toy soldier still sat beside each other on the chest of drawers. It was fine to see a stack of nappies by the changing table, alright to still own a play-pen. These things happened. 

It wasn't like they had chosen the furniture anyway. The furniture had belonged to some other child who was nothing like her Olive was going to be. And Olive would have deserved better than hand-me-downs and second hand toys. Olive was going to be inquisitive and clever. She was going to be reserved but friendly. She was going to like chocolate and apples and strawberries. She was going to have everything she could ever want. She was going to be there, now, young and fragile and feeding from Vin's breast. She was going to be there. 

Still, the room was there, and most prominent in it was not the half-moon light on the wall, or the mobile of stars over the crib. It was a hollowing sense of absence. A silence which chipped away at her. The nights which should have been interrupted by crying and were instead restful and quiet. Vin resented feeling well-rested. She resented the pain she didn't feel in her stomach, the movement that she waited and waited for but never got to know, the skin which didn't stretch like it should have. Vin just sat in the chair she would have sat in, with nothing in her arms. A nothing heavier than a baby could ever be. She could not think a single thought which had not been thought before. She sat in a loop of grief which reset back into denial once acceptance had been reached. 

She didn't want to share this. Didn't want to talk about it. It was her own fault for being empty. Deep inside her, where a life should have been, was the knowledge that she would never be what she needed to be. And then, denial again. Bargaining. Maybe if she tried to be better... Maybe if he had seen her on that screen... Maybe if they were a little more normal. Maybe if.

They were dreams, of course. They would never be fit parents. They were too full of their own concerns. She was too full of stains. He was too full of responsibility. They broke each other and glued each other back together. How could a family remain held fast with so many cracks in the glass? And so she didn't believe him anymore when he say "Maybe if... Maybe when..." She stopped listening. 

Kali - isn't that what he called her? The Dark One. The violent one. The Death goddess. How could a creature of Death ever produce life? How could the chalice inside of her ever hold anything but blood? If there were any divine justice, even that would stop filling. She was sure her breasts could never hold milk, only sweet poison, deceitful, granting a dusty death.


End file.
